


Full Truth

by Braincoins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Booze-fueled honesty, Diplomacy, Drinking, F/M, Fancy Dress, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 03:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins
Summary: Shiro in Altean dress uniform is quite the distraction, but they're here to win people over to the Coalition. Allura's a diplomat, good at hiding uncomfortable truths and focusing on the mission at hand. Usually.





	Full Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, [Lizzy](https://roguepaladin.tumblr.com/)!! I hope you have a marvelous day filled with cake and rainbows and unicorns and absolutely no throwing up!  
> =======

            “Princess?” Shiro asked.

            “Hm?” She snapped out of it.

            “I asked if I look okay?”

            “Oh! Y-yes, you… you look fine,” she lied. Well, it wasn’t that it was a _lie_ so much as a vast understatement. The full truth would have been, _You look handsome and strong and… and **regal**. _Shiro in Altean dress uniform looked every inch a royal consort, and that was such a specific phrasing, but she couldn’t shake it. _You look marvelous in that uniform and I badly want to get you right back out of it again._

She blushed and cleared her throat. “Well, we should present ourselves to be announced,” she said.

            “Right.” He offered her his arm.

            “Other arm,” she told him, trying to make sure she still had her voice.

            “Sorry.” He was just a little embarrassed about having screwed up something minor. Coran probably hadn’t explained it entirely, just told him that he was to offer his left arm to her. He’d clearly left out that she’d only take his right arm if they were married. Shiro would surely have been more careful about it or been more embarrassed if he knew the full truth.

            She took his left arm and raised her skirts just enough so that she could manage the stairs without tripping.

            “You look regal,” he said, unconsciously echoing her earlier thoughts.

            “Thank you.” She almost told him he did as well. But that wouldn’t do. _Get control of yourself!_

She felt like she’d been smacked. Had Shiro always been this attractive? He’d always been an excellent physical specimen, as his too-tight Earth clothes had often shown, but there was something about this uniform, fitted to him perfectly… something about his slightly-anxious smile… something about the cut of his jaw and his slicked-back hair and his _demeanor_ …

            This man was an unparalleled warrior and yet he looked so refined, so dignified, so far removed from any battlefield. He was peaceful and composed and yet still looked like he could take out an enemy combatant at a moment’s notice.

            It was power. Power to harm but consciously choosing not to. And that dorky smile on his face said he wouldn’t want to if it wasn’t necessary. He was a boy playing dress-up, he was a man of excellent form, he was a Paladin every day and a diplomat tonight, he was her escort… and nothing else.

            Why did she suddenly so badly want him to be more?

            They presented themselves and were announced as “Princess Allura of Altea, accompanied by the Black Paladin of Voltron, Shiro.” No surnames. As royalty, hers was unnecessary; she didn’t know if they even knew Shiro’s surname. _They should. This man risks his life for you all, and you don’t even know his full name_. She kept the annoyance off her face as they descended the stairs to the ballroom. She knew she was being watched.

            “I’m a little nervous,” he admitted quietly. “I keep worrying I’ll forget something Coran told me and I’ll spark some sort of war or something.”

            “You’ll be fine. But I’ll stay with you until you’ve got the hang of it,” she promised him. A tray floated by with glasses of fizzy green liquid. They each took one.

            “What is this?” he asked.

            “I don’t know. It’s been 10,000 deca-phoebs, after all.” She took a sip and smiled. “It’s nice though. Light.”

            He studied her for a moment, then took a sip of his own and hummed appreciatively. “It _is_ nice!”

            “You didn’t trust me?” she asked in mock-outrage.

            “Hey, Alteans think nunvill tastes good.”

            “Honestly, I think that’s just Coran.” She leaned towards him to say, in a conspiratorial tone, “I personally find it vile.”

            He laughed, and she couldn’t stop herself from joining in.

            “Come on, enough dilly-dally. We have important business here.”

            “Yes, Princess.”

            Had he always said it like that? She knew it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but had his tone always skirted the line between deferential and flirty? Maybe he hadn’t, not even this time; maybe she’d imagined it.

            She liked it though.

            She almost didn’t want to let go of him when they approached their first target, but she had to in order to give customary greetings to the High Pulip of Wenzletow, their host for the evening. “How are you enjoying the desinthe?” they asked.

            “The drink?” When they nodded, she smiled. “It’s delicious.”

            The High Pulip chortled. “Most people avoid it; think it’s too strong.”

            “Really?” Shiro asked. “In what way?”

            “Potency. It has a reputation of being a scoundrel’s drink, but it’s recently been enjoying a resurgence, thanks to some proper understanding of its history.”

            She saw her opportunity, but Shiro claimed it before she could. “Some things deserve their poor reputations, like the Galra Empire. But I’d say this drink doesn’t qualify for that sort of treatment.”

            Some light chuckling at that, and Allura segued smoothly into Voltron’s own resurgence. The High Pulip seemed intrigued; she believed she could tell if they were feigning interest for civility’s sake. They thanked them for the invitation and let their host depart.

            “See? You’re doing well so far,” she told Shiro.

            “One down, a million to go.” He drank more of the desinthe.

            “ _Not_ a million. Stop worrying so much.”

            They moved on to the Crown Prince of Beelox IV and his charming partner. They both took quite an interest in Shiro, which Allura couldn’t blame them for, but it didn’t stop her from finding an excuse to end the conversation early. She was afraid it was a bit abrupt, but she could hardly get a word in edgewise between the three of them – really, just the two of them, as most of Shiro’s end of the conversation was blushing and some light protests. Allura had stood there and sipped her desinthe and tried not to look as annoyed as she felt.

            “Well, they were… friendly,” Shiro commented.

            “That’s one way to put it. If they’d had their way, you’d be joining them in some curtained alcove right now.”

            He cleared his throat, and the blush was back. “Well, even if I were inclined to that sort of thing, I could never abandon you like that.”

            She smiled, relief washing over her. “Of course not; you might accidentally spark a war or something.”

            He laughed again and she felt her own cheeks heat. They pressed on.

            Glad-handing, small talk, segues into Coalition pitches where possible. Over and over again, and it might have been interminably dull were it not for Shiro beside her. Whenever they had a spare moment, he was fetching her another drink or something to nibble on, making little jokes, or even, one time, pretending he was Coran and protesting Allura’s preference for desinthe over nunvill. He made her laugh and smile. She knew splitting up would let them each cover more ground, but she didn’t want to let go.

            Was this really so different from the Shiro she’d known all this time, or was she simply seeing him in a different light? Had his change in attire corresponded in a change in her feelings? _I wouldn’t protest if you dressed like this every day, certainly_.

            Maybe it was the desinthe. There were other drinks on offer, but they’d tried a sparkling pink concoction and both decided it was awful, swapping back to the lightly fizzy “scoundrel’s drink” instead. Few others were availing themselves of it, and one or two even commented on the choice in surprise.

            “Everyone keeps talking like this is some sort of hard-hitting booze, but I don’t feel at all impaired,” Allura said at one point as they left a couple of the Councilors from Prime Lykuri.

            “Well, you wouldn’t, necessarily,” Shiro pointed out. “A lot of drunk people think they’re perfectly sober.”

            “I am _not_ drunk!” she insisted.

            The band struck up just then, and Shiro grinned. “Care to prove it?” He took her glass and deposited them both on a passing tray. “I only practiced one dance for this, but…”

            She grinned and grabbed his hand, hauling him towards the dance floor. It was a formal line of partners dance, and they took up their positions opposite each other. Left line – with Shiro in it – bowed, and right line – where Allura was – responded in kind, and the movements began. They barely did more than press hands occasionally at first, only to cycle away to other partners almost immediately.

            Allura was swung and spun from partner to partner, but she knew the steps well and executed them flawlessly. She could see Shiro doing his part, dancing with a partner before swinging away to the next. Near as she could tell, he didn’t screw up, but she couldn’t always be looking at him. She held her partners’ gazes as required. Many of them were gorgeous examples of their own species, but none of them could compare to Shiro.

            And, at last, she was spun away and caught up in Shiro’s arms, reunited to dance the last part together. He smiled at her, and she missed a step. His eyes crinkled in warm amusement, she blushed in embarrassment; neither of them said a word. And when the dance was over, they broke and bowed to each other and applauded the band. She let Shiro lead her properly from the floor.

            “I’m not drunk,” she concluded.

            “You missed a step.”

            “Not because I was drunk.”

            “Oh no? Then why?”

            “Because you’re too handsome when you smile.” She blinked. _Quiznak, did I just say that out loud_?

            He was staring at her and his cheeks were going red.

            She groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “I _did_ say that out loud.”

            “Allura?”

            She raised her face hesitantly. “Yes?”

            His gaze was intent upon her and she watched him lick his lips. “I…”

            “Princess! Paladin! There you are!” It was the High Pulip. “Enjoying the evening, I hope?”

            She straightened up and smiled. “Very much, thank you.”

            “Come, I’ve someone I think you’ll be interested in talking with…”

            She grabbed another glass of desinthe as a tray passed her and drank deep. _Perhaps being drunk is preferable._

            But, if nothing else, their host was arranging for them to talk with more people about the Coalition, which was both helpful and an excellent sign. A sidelong glance at Shiro showed that he was back in Black Paladin mode, stalwart and unflappable. _What were you going to say to me?_

            But they were being introduced to Rewak of Konigan. The Konigs had signed on with the Galra willingly 10,000 years ago, believing Zarkon’s lies about the destruction of Daibazaal. So Allura focused up, because this was someone who wouldn’t be easily-swayed – especially by an Altean.

            She was right, unfortunately. “Alfor was responsible for the destruction of an entire planet, with the help of those Lions of yours,” Rewak sniffed. Every rebuttal she came up with, he pivoted back to that.

            And this was, of course, where Shiro proved invaluable. “I’ve _seen_ the history, through the Black Lion’s eyes,” he said. “What happened to Daibazaal was a tragedy, but if you won’t believe us, just look at the facts: King Alfor _evacuated_ Daibazaal before destroying it. Zarkon didn’t give the Alteans the chance.”

            Rewak wasn’t terribly impressed, but he at least appeared to consider that. He gave them the politest brushing-off he could get away with and left. Shiro exhaled in his wake. “That was intense.”

            “You made a good point. I hope he’ll consider it.”

            “Still…” He swiped himself a glass of desinthe. “I think I need some air.”

            “Oh, uh…” She glanced around and spotted a balcony. “This way.”

            They wound their way through the crowd to head outside. There were a scattered few people out here as well, enjoying the relative coolness of the summer night compared to the stuffy ballroom. The stars were radiant jewels in a sky of richly black silk; the light from the twin moons – each half full – was more than enough to take in the gardens laid out below them.

            She leaned against the wide stone rail and smiled out at the landscape. “It’s lovely.”

            Shiro made an agreeing noise; it sounded like he was drinking. When he could, he managed, “It is. But how much longer are we staying?”

            She laughed and looked over to him. “Worn out already? We’ve only had the one dance.”

            He smirked at her. “It’s not the dancing that wore me out, and you know that.”

            She swayed closer to him so she could lower her voice and still be heard. “I know you have better stamina than that, my paladin.”

            He cleared his throat and started to raise his glass for another drink, but she swiped it from him for a sip of her own.

            “Maybe you _are_ drunk,” he said.

            “Only if you are,” she replied, offering the glass back to him.

            He accepted it. “Hardly.”

            “I thought the drunk never realized they were?”

            “I didn’t say ‘never.’ And I know my tolerances.”

            “For your Earth beverages, perhaps.”

            “You said yourself you didn’t know what desinthe was when we got here; how could you know your own tolerance for it, let alone mine?”

            “Clever.” She let the matter drop. Maybe she was tipsy, perhaps buzzed. “In any case, it’s nice out here. The break was a good idea.”

            “Let’s not stay too much longer. Please?”

            “We haven’t even talked to…”

            “Pick three people you think we most need to talk to and haven’t yet. We’ll chat them up, then go back to the Castle.”

            “Five.”

            “Two.”

            She gasped. “That’s not how it works!”

            “I’ll drop it to one,” he threatened.

            “You think _you’re_ in charge here?” she retorted with a grin.

            He shook his head, smiling. “No, Princess. You’re right.” He sounded amused.

            “Three,” she said. “And then we’ll leave. But I’ll tell the High Pulip that it’s because you can’t hold your desinthe.”

            He laughed. “Fine, fine. I’ll take the blame.”

            She beamed and, taking a quick glance around, realized they were alone. “Shiro?”

            “Hm?” He was taking another sip of his drink.

            “What were you going to say earlier? Right after the dance, before we were interrupted.”

            He lowered the glass and set it on the railing. “Oh. I… I was just going to…”

            “Yes?” she prompted, looking up at him.

            He stared into her eyes for a long moment. “I don’t think I was going to say anything.”

            “But you were,” she protested gently.

            “I don’t remember now. All I can think of is how beautiful your eyes are.”

            Time stopped and her heart dropped into her stomach. She felt frozen in place and she hoped he could hear her plea, maybe see it in her eyes – _Kiss me, Shiro_ – because she felt like she couldn’t move, like she wouldn’t be able to move ever again until his lips thawed her.

            But then he cleared his throat and stepped away and time restarted. She felt like she was going to fall forward or lurch backward, she wasn’t sure. “Three more people,” he said, blushing.

            She felt hot and cold and the world was suddenly spinning. “Shiro…”

            “Allura, as much as I want to, I don’t think we should…”

            She turned away and grabbed hold of the railing. “Shiro, I don’t…” And then it felt like her body just turned itself inside out.

            He grabbed hold of her shoulders, pulled her hair back gently. “Or we could go back to the Castle now. Or, well… when you’re done.”

            She couldn’t respond until she was done puking up what little there was in her stomach other than the desinthe. He went to flag a servant down, sent apologies to the High Pulip, and escorted her to the door. She felt weak and miserable and tired, as if she’d vomited out all her strength.

            Shiro picked her up and carried her into the Black Lion, cradling her on his lap as they took off. “We’ll be home soon,” he said softly. Her head was on his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. She was asleep before they landed.

 

 

            “Hell of a party, eh, Princess?”

            “It feels like something died in my mouth,” she informed them all.

            Lance chuckled. “Well, you’re still doing better than Shiro.”

            She paused on her way to start a cup of kava brewing. “Why do you say that?”

            “He hasn’t come out of his room since he got home last night,” Hunk said.

            “He let Keith in once and threw up on his boots,” Pidge added. “He’s been in bed ever since. I think Coran sent a medbot in with some water, but Shiro was passed out.”

            _Well, at least I wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of the desinthe_. “I think we’re done with diplomacy for a bit,” was all she said. “At least, the fancy party kind of diplomacy.” She wasn’t about to get into how she’d made a complete fool of herself thanks to a dress uniform and too much to drink.

            “Princess!” Coran said. “Glad to see you up and about! I just got word from – you won’t believe this – _Konigan_. They’re extending a formal invitation to you and Shiro to attend the Grand Jubilation ball next movement!”

            She groaned as the Paladins snickered. “Well, I suppose we must.” But, if she was being honest with herself, she _was_ looking forward to seeing Shiro in his dress uniform again. _Perhaps another dance. And perhaps another moment beneath the stars. But no more desinthe._


End file.
